Ginger Ale
by somehowunbroken
Summary: John was really happy for them. It was just that sometimes, things were really unfair. For kissbingo: "location: wedding." Slash, rating for swearing.


Summary: John was really happy for them. It was just that sometimes, things were really unfair. For lj's kissbingo : "location: wedding."  
Warnings: slash.

* * *

John was happy for them. He really, really was. It was just that sometimes shit was unfair, and he was feeling a little maudlin, probably due to the alcohol he had imbibed over the last few hours.

He was at a wedding. Well, okay, he was at the reception; the wedding had been over for hours. The party was in full swing, though, and as John looked around, surveying all the happy people in the crowd, his mood only worsened.

Jack O'Neill and Samantha Carter hadn't been able to do anything about their attraction to each other for years. There was that whole pesky chain of command thing, which John understood and even respected. Hell, the way they were looking at each other right now – John figured that if the situations were reversed, he'd have jumped her years ago, rules and regs be damned.

But then O'Neill had retired, finally, and had delivered the news himself to the SGC. He'd given the news at a staff meeting (even though he wasn't staff, nobody even blinked when he walked in and sat down) and promptly stood up and planted a big wet one on her. Now, a year later, John was drinking at the open bar at their wedding reception, trying pretty damn hard to be happy for them.

It was just that sometimes, shit sucked a lot, he decided. Because he wasn't in the same situation, not really. He wasn't ridiculously in love with someone under him, or someone above him. He wasn't head-over-heels for someone on Atlantis with whom his relationship would be entirely inappropriate or, if something went south, entirely awkward.

No, John had found himself another fucked up situation entirely. He was in a relationship where retirement wouldn't make shit better. Fuck, retirement would make shit _worse_, if only because he would then be Earthside and therefore closer to his partner, closer to blowing everything sky-high.

He took another sip from his scotch and sighed.

A noise from the other side of the ballroom reminded John that he wasn't the only one who'd had the get-drunk-on-the-free-booze idea. Vala was busily running around planting big sloppy kisses on anyone and everyone who couldn't duck out of the way fast enough, turning around each time she landed one to bestow another upon Jackson, who was following her like a puppy dog. Although, he reflected as he observed the scene, that might just be Vala.

He watched as Vala approached Teal'c and Mitchell, watched as she kissed Teal'c full on the mouth – did she seriously just slip him some tongue? – before turning and kissing Daniel again. She moved down the row, leaning in to do the same to Mitchell, but paused an inch from his lips, whispered something in his ear, and laid a soft, chaste kiss on his forehead.

John blinked and shook his head. Vala was strange. If he was going to quasi-drunkenly tongue either of those two-

He stopped that particular train of though as he turned back to the bar and sipped at his scotch again. He'd finished the last of it when he felt the warmth of someone sitting too close to him and turned, figuring it was his turn for Vala's over-enthusiasm.

"Hey there," Mitchell said, smiling at him drunkenly. He set his champagne down before he slung an arm around John's shoulders and John felt himself tense before leaning into it, figuring that hey, people knew they were friends, and that they'd both been drinking, so what the fuck, he'd take what he could.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he said, voice conversational but slurred enough that the barkeep looked at his glass as if considering taking it away.

"Sure," John replied, wondering if he should maybe get Mitchell out of there before he vomited or outed them or something.

"Share the love!" he said loudly enough that a few nearby heads turned to them, rolling their eyes at the obviously-inebriated colonel. He ducked his head to John's ear and whispered, perfectly clearly, "I've been drinking ginger ale all night."

It took John a little longer to process than he'd like to admit, but then Mitchell was kissing him and John forgot everything and just kissed him back for an all-too-brief second before Mitchell pulled back, eyes clear but voice back to slurred.

"Share the love," he said again, spreading his arms wide to encompass the whole room. He wobbled on his stool and slumped a little into John, his head resting on John's shoulder.

"I'm ready to leave," he said softly. "You want to make our excuses?"

John nodded and made the show of propping Mitchell up on the bar as he signaled to the barkeep to watch him while he made his way to Sam and O'Neill.

"Hey, you two, congratulations," he said, drawing their attention away from one another momentarily. They both smiled up at him and he couldn't help but smile back. "Look, Mitchell's about to pass out on the bar. I'm gonna get him out of here." O'Neill nodded and Sam stood up to give him a hug.

"Thanks for coming," she said, then leaned in to speak directly into his ear. "We're happy for you two. Go be happy for yourselves."

John pulled back, shocked, and saw O'Neill's smile widen briefly as ne nodded once. "Go on, get him out of here," he said, and John could only reach out and shake his hand in surprise.

As he made his way out of the reception hall, his partner slung over his shoulder but supporting his own weight under the show they had to put on, John found that, though some things might suck pretty hard, he wasn't unhappy at all.


End file.
